


Tact

by tenuous_pteradatyl



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Groping, M/M, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenuous_pteradatyl/pseuds/tenuous_pteradatyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Somnambulist. Eddie tries to relive the other night while Waylon just tries to forget it. Written from both perspectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tact

As the days go on, Eddie realizes just how glad he is to have his new wife. As he had made his way through the dark of the room that fateful night he had his doubts. There were so many disappointments hanging from the ceiling, so many useless ugly sluts he had wasted his time on. They had never loved him, and so he easily threw them away, but this one was special. He had known it the moment he had seen her. Something about her was familiar, and as he pursued her into the dark recesses of the vocational block he knew he had to have her with him. As time passed, he knew he had been foolish to doubt her. 

Out of all the women he had encountered she was the only one to reciprocate his feelings, and the only one to actually initiate physical contact between them. Although he notices that ever since that night when he had woken up in her arms, her hand on his back stroking him through the rough material of his shirt, she’s been avoiding looking him in the eye. He can begrudgingly understand, she probably thinks it was inappropriate of her. Especially when she was the one who put up the boundary between them in the first place, and he would agree. Usually. The problem though is that he can’t get that night out of his mind. 

He can’t forget the feel of her fingers on his skin, how she had looked at him, it makes him shudder a bit to think about it, even 3 days later. Before now physical contact between them was regulated to kisses on the cheek, the forehead, a quick hug. It was thrilling to see that he wasn’t the only one growing impatient. The wedding wouldn’t be for a few more weeks, he still had a few things to work into place. But he knew they would both enjoy it if they were together more, if they could try to take some of the edge off. 

He needed it he realized, and he intended to get it. But he knew from countless rounds of beatings that he wouldn’t get it through doing her harm. He had tried that in the early days when they had first met, and although he’s sure it did instill in her a certain level of obedience, he had to admit that sometimes she took her beatings a little too well. So many times he saw her in between blows, gritting her teeth, clenching her fists tightly behind her back to try to bare it. No, he would be kind, entice her back to him with sweet words, and lingering touches. He’s found that out of anything she seems to be the most disarmed by his acts of kindness. He’s seen how they effectively draw, and quarter her defenses. 

But as eager as he is to have her in his bed again he knows better than to push too hard. If he does she’ll just retreat back behind her imagined walls. He doesn’t want that, he needs her with him if only she could see that! “No”, he thinks he’ll have to stay subtle, make her realize just how much she needs him. He had noticed before this, the way her eyes would flutter shut under the briefest of touches, he had examined how her breath would hitch slightly if his fingers grazed her shoulder, admired how she would try to hide her flush if he were to caress the back of her neck. He would entice her back into bed with him, they didn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to he would assure her, but at least he wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.

—-

Waylon decided after he had stumbled off to his own room that fateful night that he would never think of it again. He would forget about the way Gluskin had looked at him, he would forget the sound of his voice pleading for it all to stop. He would bury it deep in his mind, and act as though it had never happened. But as good as that plan had sounded that night as he willed himself back to sleep, it was proving much harder to follow through with. He couldn’t stop himself from searching Gluskin’s face for signs of lack of sleep, and sometimes he even found himself walking to Gluskin’s room during his waking hours to check on him before he dropped off to sleep. It’s disturbing to think that he’s actually genuinely concerned about him. But what’s really getting to him though, more than anything, is not the thought of that night, but more the thought that came after it. It was what he felt early in the morning when he rolled over on his own cot. The terrible realization that no one was lying there next to him, and how hopelessly lonely he had felt. As short as it was he had felt glad to have someone to lie next to, he hadn’t realized until then how much he had missed that, in a strange and sick way he had gotten used to Gluskin by his side. 

The thought sickened, and shamed him more than anything else had, even when he had woken up next to him the first time he didn’t feel as bad as he did now. It’s an insidious thought that wormed, and crawled it’s way into his mind at the worst moments, he hadn’t realized how lonely he’s been. He’s been too caught up trying to stay alive, but now with his thoughts laid out before him, he knows it. He’s loathe to admit, but that’s the biggest reason it’s so hard to look at the other man. It’s repugnant what he’s thinking, that he’s so weak, and so needy that he’d be fine sleeping next to a murderer. That’s why when Gluskin starts his assault of “kindness”, it’s so hard to deal with.

———-

Just like he had promised himself, he started off slow. They were fleeting touches at first, their fingers brushing as he took something from her outstretched hands, his kisses to her cheek lingering perhaps longer than necessary as if he would move his lips elsewhere. A hand massaging her shoulder, a quick touch to her knee, his fingers running down her spine. At first it yields absolutely no results, she just stares at him, totally unmoved by it. But he’s patient, and after awhile she seems to warm up to him. Gradually he can feel her lean into his touch. Although she often tries to draw back as if she thinks she should restrain herself, but by then it’s too late.

——

Waylon knew damn well what was going on. He was being manipulated. It was subtle, so much so that he questioned if it was even there sometimes, but he knew it. He was too paranoid not to have noticed it. The Groom was trying to lure him in through soft touches, and fleeting caresses, that were just barely there, but always left a slight tingle on his skin. He realizes he should care, he should be outraged and disgusted that this is happening. There’s an ever present, loud nagging voice in the back of his mind that tells him to man up, stop being so damn needy, and weak. Stop being so easily led in by this maniac, you have a family to get back to, and you never will at this rate. But it’s so hard to tear himself away. All he’s known for the past few weeks has been pain, so to have something real and tangible, something that actually feels good after all he’s had to suffer through is nice. It’s almost intoxicating. It’s dangerous he realizes, and it leaves him feeling dirty at the end of the day. He should feel nauseated being touched by this man, it shouldn’t be something to look froward to, and never something to enjoy. But now he finds his breath hitching every time he comes close, and he was always close these days, invading his personal space every chance he got.

"I just want some relief", he reasoned. Some form of relief that wasn’t only limited to his dreams. Some tangible way to ease the pain, if only for a short time. That’s what led him to Gluskin’s room. He had asked him to come in to talk, and he had agreed without a second thought. That should have worried Waylon, but he was so delirious with the idea of some form of companionship that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Well, if he really wanted to be honest with himself that wasn’t the only reason for him wanting to visit. How sick was he? How much of his sanity had been lost in these past few days that would reduce him to craving the Groom’s touch? Even after all that’s transpired between them he still refused to call Gluskin by his first name. Somehow uttering his name seemed to be the most intimate thing he could do, as if once that barrier was gone it could never be built up again. For him that barrier was the only thing keeping the last shred of his sanity from being ripped apart.

——

“You’ve been in pain for awhile now darling. Don’t think I haven’t noticed it”, he told her as she took her seat next to him. He placed his hand on her’s before continuing “Don’t you want some way to ease it?”, he asked as his hand traveled up her arm, and to her shoulder gently squeezing the firm muscle that lay underneath. She looked at him for long moments, he noticed she looked conflicted as she often did these days.”Of course I do”, she finally said somewhat tiredly “But I don’t know how-“, she trailed off for a moment looking down at her shoes. “It’s very simple darling”, he says massaging her shoulder, he can feel those tense muscles relax slowly under his fingers. She lets out a low sigh at his ministrations, but he can still see a look of confusion on her face. “We can do this as much as you want to” he says, his fingernails grazing her skin, she hisses slightly as he rakes them up. His hand then rests on the nape of her neck caressing the sensitive skin there, already he can feel goosebumps spring up “We could even sleep in the same bed again. Think how nice that would be. I could massage your shoulders as you fall asleep, they’re always so tense after all. Wouldn’t you like that darling?”

——-

Waylon has never been so tempted in his life to just give up, and agree with him. He knows it’s wrong on so many levels. He should have never allowed things to go this far, but he can’t deny how good it feels. It almost feels euphoric. But even in the midst of this, he still doesn’t want to feel this way. Not because of the Groom. He hates how he’s somehow managed to slip under his defenses, like he owns his body, and has the right to touch him wherever he likes. But as happy he’d be to pry his hands off, he can’t bring himself to do it, instead he just listens to what Gluskin’s saying, his head lolling to one side in relaxation. He tries to remember these are the same hands that had beaten him down for the smallest of mistakes. The same hands that had sliced, and chopped up dozens of other men. He wants to tell him to stop but his jaw feels slack with contentment.

By now Gluskin’s breathing promises in his ear. To Waylon they sound just as desperate as he feels. “You need this too don’t you? I remember how you were pressed up against me the other night, you little minx. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one growing impatient. But you don’t have to wait anymore, not if you don’t want to”.Gluskin moves behind him, his hands working steadily on the knots in his shoulders, working their way down the expanse of his back. “We can have what we had the other night, isn’t that what you want? I know that has to be it”, he says, he’s barely stopped for a breath. His free hand is now sliding down the side of his body only stopping to stroke his hip for a short moment. 

Maybe it’s his words, frantic and breathy in his ear. Maybe it’s the change in position, or the fact that Gluskin’s hands seem to be everywhere, but now his skin feels as though it’s burning with every lingering caress, and every tender stroke. To him this is starting to feel far worse than the beatings ever did, and as it drags on he just feels more, and more pained. His limbs feel heavy, and he panics for a moment at the thought that he might not get another chance to fight him off ‘I don’t want this”, he says. “Not yet”, he adds hastily “It’s not p-proper”. Gluskin just looks at him for a moment, and he’s almost expecting a slap to come at his refusal, but nothing ever does. Instead his hand travels down to hip, and then around to his ass, and for a moment Waylon stops breathing entirely. He’s tempted to push away, but before he can even steel his nerves to do it, it’s over.

——

The next few days are totally different. Gluskin makes no move to touch him, not even the smallest bit of contact. Waylon’s glad, he doesn’t need the temptation,he realizes it’s better this way. But after 4 days of no physical contact at all Waylon begins to feel a little hollow. He supposed this was some kind of punishment for his refusal, and as sad as it was.It was working.

——- 

He had been angry at first, he had wanted to shout at her for refusing him. But he quickly remembered his plan, and so he hadn’t laid a finger on her since that day. After 4 days of no contact she seemed to be going through a kind of harsh withdrawal. Every time he comes near her, she looks down, her eyes traveling down to his hands like she’s anticipating him to touch her. But he doesn’t give her anything, not even the slightest touch. As they sit next to each other one night he notices she looks on edge, teetering back and forth in her seat, uncomfortable. 

“You’re looking rather tense darling”, he said with a bit of a knowing smile quirking his lips. She looks up at him her eyes wet around the corners with the first hint of tears, she wrings her hands “Uh yes…I have been a bit. My back has been killing me…”, she trails off her hand moves to rub her neck. “I could find you some tea perhaps, that might calm your nerves”, she looks at him again. She looks so conflicted he almost feels sorry for her, but the little tease has brought this upon herself, and he’s not going to let her get away with it so easily. 

“No that’s fine. I don’t need any tea” she says, her voice almost shaking. “Then what would you have me do my darling?”, he asks standing over her, she looks pained but she answers, her voice low and harsh “You know what to do”. “I’m afraid I’m not following you”, he answers. A look of anguish briefly travels over her face as she sits there wringing her hands again. With a long trembling sigh she closes her eyes, and answers him as slowly and quietly as she can “T-touch m-massage my back. I need you to do that for me”. 

“You need me to?” he asks raising an eyebrow, his voice mockingly sweet. She looks beyond exapserated with him now but she answers “I want you to do it…”

“Is that the polite way to ask?” he says, and he well aware of the fact that he’s pushing his luck, but he can’t help himself. She grits her teeth “P-please…please you have to I-” before she can continue his hands are on her shoulders, and racing down her back. He had been growing impatient too, but he had managed to keep his hands to himself. But now he doesn’t have to hold back anymore, and it’s a revelation made even more heady by the fact that she wants him to do it, that she asked him for it. She lets out a long shuddering sigh as his fingers knead the sore muscles of her shoulder her eyes actually close when he moves his fingers to the small of her back where he feels a twisted knot of sore muscle under his calloused fingers…

Waylon has to choke back a low moan. He didn’t realize how pent up he’s been for the past few days, going from constant physical contact to none at all had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. That’s why when Gluskin has his hands on his back he’s almost beside himself. The Groom seems to notice this too. His hands travel down his back, and then back up to his shoulders casusualy sliding over them to his chest, and then back again. “Oh imagine how wonderful it could be darling. Doing this all the time”, he says and Waylon is amazed at how husky his voice managed to get. He knows what’s going to happen, and if he agrees there will be no one to blame but himself if something goes wrong. “Something already has” he thinks bitterly to himself “I let him get this close in the first place”. 

His eyes water a bit. This isn’t right. He should have never let things devolve this quickly, he had willingly let his guard down and now Gluskin had totally taken advantage. He was just so lonely. So much so that he had forgotten why he was playing the role of the devoted fiancé in the first place. It was to get back to his boys, to his wife. Lisa. What would she do if she saw him like this? “She would be disgusted”, he thinks miserably he can almost see the look of anguished revulsion on her face. It makes his throat close up, as he tries to choke back a sob, and the Groom stops for a moment. “Darling?” he asks and Waylon buries his head in his hands tugging at his hair “I just want it to stop”, he announces his voice cracking with suppressed tears. 

“I just want the pain to stop” he says laying against Gluskin’s chest for support, he’s so close to tears, his hands are shaking as they cover his face. The Groom looks almost puzzled for a moment, like he’s never encountered anyone like Waylon before, but he smiles for a moment. “Oh darling I can help you take all the pain away. Come here.” he says, and he pulls Waylon into a close embrace. Waylon, feeling totally hollow, willingly lets himself be dragged down the hallway to Gluskin’s room, and laid down on the cot. He half expected to be stripped down, but then he remembers that the Groom is probably too repulsed by his physique. As he tries to calm himself he feels the Groom sidle up next to him, his body pressing up behind him. Waylon looks around for a moment, alarmed “Shh shh”, Gluskin says putting his arms around him and pulling him in, if possible even closer. He’s sure the Groom meant it to be a soothing gesture, but it only serves to make him feel stifled and more upset, mostly with himself. Despite everything, he wants so badly to believe that this is real, that this won’t go back to the mindless cycle of abuse that plagued their days before, but he knows the truth.

“See?”, he hears behind him “It can always be like this. We don’t have to do anything other than this…well for now” he adds, his voice dropping lower and his hand moving down to Waylon’s stomach. He feels so miserable, made even worse by the fact that Gluskin hasn’t even tried to do anything more than just lie there, and try to ease away some of his pain. He’d feel thankful for the relief if it didn’t make him feel so guilty. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and he knows he shouldn’t be enjoying it, he should be trying to fight back and get out of this hell hole. 

But all he can manage to do, all he wants to do, is just lie there and stop fighting it. For a moment he tries to alleviate some of the searing guilt, he tries to forget who’s touching him. He tries to imagine that it’s really Lisa pressed up against him, that it’s her who’s got her hands splayed on his stomach smoothing out slow circles on his skin. That it’s her fingers rubbing his chest. But the strokes are a little too harsh, the skin brushing up against him is too rough, the voice whispering in his ear is too deep, and it shatters any illusion he had been able to devise for himself. He knows that tomorrow their interactions will probably sway back to insults, and blows but he so desperately wants to believe in what Gluskin is telling him. If only for a moment.


End file.
